Your choice is gone
And you smoke weed while in the sun
Your love is gone
And yet I feel so free
When is the wind going to rise?
When is love going to die?
Laughing in on his suicidal thoughts
Seeing what lie beneath his oozing yellow rots
Laugh and poke games at his horrible figure
Lock him away for a cold dark winter
When is he going to leave?
When will I find my deed?
You see him starving and rotting alone while frolicking
You see him touching and molesting without a single masterpiece
An infested milk rotted till winter
His milk is sh$t and full of seasons dimmer
When will the violence end?
When will it all turn to blends?
Turning all over in heads and heels
Seeing right through, another grassy hill
Making eyesight while playing out of mind and seeking what to find
Laughing at suicide as if it where a sac of green smoking dime
When will we find peace inside our hearts?
When will it all start to fall apart?